


Unifying

by lightningwaltz



Series: Post-War Shinpachi/Chizuru [2]
Category: Hakuouki
Genre: F/M, First Time, Marriage, Post-Canon, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:51:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6576490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningwaltz/pseuds/lightningwaltz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Some kinds of happiness bloom suddenly, after growing from a firm foundation.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unifying

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday present for my (still) rad friend, Cassie.
> 
> This is a sequel to the fic [Living On](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3756034). You don't have to read that one, but I do recommend it. It builds on some plot points from that one. Also, like Living On, this fic is set in a weird mix of true ending canon, and the Kazama musical canon.

Some kinds of happiness bloom suddenly, after growing from a firm foundation.

There comes an evening when Shinpachi and Chizuru sit down to dinner at his house, and Shinpachi realizes that he wants every day to end this way. Laughing and talking over their meal. Chizuru’s hair still damp from a bath, Shinpachi tired in a pleasant way. Like he’s already enveloped in blankets. 

He’s finally given a name to his happiness. It's a fact in his life, now. Something that he ignores, but can’t hope to escape from. Just like the blinking of his eyes or sound of air entering his lungs. Sometimes it seems impossible to believe he once spent months and months coming back to an empty house. Sometimes it seems impossible to believe he will have to return to that lifestyle soon. After all, this was what they had agreed on; temporarily living together. It had once made sense, for reasons both practical and emotional. 

But now his emotions have become less than practical.

He suspects he’s been horribly naïve for not anticipating this. Change seems an inscribed part of the universe, though. Winter had melted into spring, and spring had been chased out by summer. Shinpachi has landed a stable line of work, and Chizuru had graduated from poring over medical books to pay house calls and treating minor illnesses and injuries. And their icy veil of mourning had cracked. 

In light of all these things, he should not be surprised by old affection being refashioned into new form. All that matters is what he chooses to do with it. And Shinpachi has chosen to not burden her with this. He won’t persuade her, guilt her, or fetter her in any way. She’s gone through enough of that in her life. 

“I visited your father’s house today,” he says. They rarely planned these things anymore. It was common for one or both to visit the house and make their way through various tasks. “I think… We might have actually managed to clear everything out.”

“Thank you!” Chizuru bursts out. Even all these weeks later, and her gratitude never seems to abate. “You’ve been an amazing help.” 

Her smile remains fixed, and so does her friendly conversation. However, there’s a slightly distant look to her eyes, and she stops eating.

“What’s wrong?” Shinpachi asks. He always wonders if this sort of thing should be coaxed out. After all, she was concealing certain feelings for a reason. 

“Nothing is wrong,” Chizuru says, and Shinpachi believes her for the most part. “I’m just surprised. When we started working on that house I thought it would take forever. It _did_ take forever. But now it’s done and I can’t believe it.” 

*

Some kinds of sadness abate slowly, and leave behind a mark that means pain and resurrection

Bloody cuts that become scabs. Scabs that become skin that’s bumpy with scars. Floods returning to the sea, leaving behind a muddy and altered landscape. Forests that catch fire, leaving behind ash and soil that give root to much taller trees. 

War and disease and pride had killed most of her friends. For a while, Chizuru and emotion were like strangers. Yes, she had been able to feel distant things. They were like ripples skimming the surface of a great lake. Worth experiencing for a short time, but swallowed up into a placid, empty surface. 

But she kept living and kept learning, first out of habit then out of stubbornness. She’d moved in with Shinpachi at his request, and she found her way back to certain things. Laughter that made her hiccup for half an hour. Bemused irritation at someone’s strange habits. Blessed silence with someone who knows you inside and out. These things healed her and remade her. 

And so, when Shinpachi’s mentions her father’s house, Chizuru understands two things. First; she’s afraid of living in that building alone. She imagines setting foot in it, only to be swallowed alive by that gray emptiness of the past. Second; it’s even worse to imagine crossing the threshold of Shinpachi’s house, and leaving him for good. She shouldn’t be dramatic. They will still share a city. However, it’s easy to imagine him vanishing into the sea of houses and people and her never finding her way back. 

They’d come so close to missing each other, after all.

After dinner, she opens one of her letters. She reads it once, twice, and then three times. Chizuru had thought she was developing a good stoic face for her patients, but Shinpachi notices right away. 

“Upsetting letter?” 

Is it? Chizuru isn’t sure. “Princess Sen writes that there’s going to be a meeting of the heads of all the demon clans in a few months. I’ll be receiving an official invitation soon, but she wants me to be forewarned. Apparently I am expected to attend.” 

Shinpachi frowns. “You? The head of a… Well, I guess you are. Hmm.” 

“Yes. I’ll go and let them know that the vast Yukimura clan is alive and well.” She gestures to herself, her hand waving a few inches from her torso. At the same time, they both realize he’s been staring far longer than he should. Chizuru endeavors so hard to keep from blushing that she probably goes quite pale instead. Oddly, she feels no sense of bashfulness or humility. Rather, she wants him to keep looking at her like that. It seems like a terrible imposition when she’s already sharing his home, and partaking of his food. Partaking of his kindness.

Easier to focus on the letter, maybe. That has dangers of its own, though. Kazama is probably still alive, somewhere. Even if he’s not, other demon clan leaders remain in this world. She doesn’t think she can stand another male demon claiming her as the mother of his children. She’d been pondering the idea of bringing Shinpachi to the assembly and claiming him as her husband. After all, there were many people who ignored a woman’s disinterest, but would step aside if she appeared to belong to another man.

However, Kazama had never much cared that the Shinsengumi were her friends. He’d derided them, harassed them, and even killed them. Bringing Shinpachi would likely dissuade no one, if other demons were like Kazama. At most, she would make a target out of her best friend. 

_Also you hate the idea of pretending to be married, and having to give it up_ , a sly, self-loathing part persisted in reminding her. 

“I wonder how they found out about me,” Chizuru says. Her emotions are calm, right now. More distant that the stars. She realizes this distance is all too familiar, and she fears it. 

“Maybe from Kazama?” Shinpachi says. “It’s hard to know whether he would tell them to help you or to hurt you.”

Shinpachi is so smart. _So_ smart. He’s helped her understand so many things. And, when she has to tell him about something new, he listens with respect. Talks to her in such a way that everything seems to be laid bare. It’s an unexpected comfort, and she will have to leave it soon. 

“It’s possible he wanted to do both.”

“You seem worried. Are you?”

Sometimes she has to remind herself how to feel things. The proper order of thoughts and physical sensations. Chizuru remembers the first time she felt anger again, after the war. She can’t remember the exact cause. Some man questioning her knowledge of medicine. She’d ranted and raved about it to Shinpachi, and he’d said _’you sound seriously mad.’_ And that realization- the revelation that he was right- had nearly made her cry in relief. War hadn’t completely hollowed her out, after all. 

“I’m not worried,” she says, at last. “I just don’t know what I’ll do if I have to see him again. He kissed me, you know.” 

She tries to discern the emotion that flits across Shinpachi’s face, but she can’t. 

“Did he?” 

“Yes, he kissed me. And then he killed Hijikata in front of me.” 

It’s the first time she’s said it aloud, and she’s shocked when tears roll down the sides of her cheeks. She isn't even that upset. She definitely hasn't given herself permission to cry.

But Shinpachi is embracing her. They do this all the time, now, and it’s hardly scandalous. But it’s still shocking that he induces roiling emotions in her, and then he soothes them just as fast.

*

The next morning, they’re both slow to rise. Somehow slow to face each other. His thoughts chase each other, like autumn leaves caught in mini vortexes of wind. There’s something like nervousness at the root of Shinpachi’s heart. Something oddly lighthearted despite everything they discussed last night. And everything they failed to say.

He thinks of Chizuru’s illustrations of the web of veins and arteries. He imagines every pulse in his chest sending disquiet and longing to the furthest reaches of his body. If he accidentally sliced open a finger, sparks and butterflies might pour out, rather than blood. 

He has to get dressed though. He has to start this day. And, suddenly, he’s rushing through getting dressed and getting ready. Suddenly realizing that a day isn’t worth it, if it doesn’t begin with Chizuru. 

_You can’t think this way. You can’t. She has to leave eventually. You don’t want to pin her down._

All he manages to do is convince himself that he has to scramble for every last moment with her. 

Talking about Hijikata had led to generalized thoughts about the dead. Which makes him wonder what Heisuke would think of Shinpachi’s latest predicament. Would he would be angry but resigned? Or would the distancing power of death soften his sentiments? Shinpachi throws his questions out into the world, but the dead remain as maddeningly silent, as ever.

If anything happens between Chizuru and Shinpachi, they will have to figure things out on their own. It’s alright, though. They’ve been on their own for a very long time.

“I’m so sorry to make you wait,” he says, as soon as he finds her. “What do you want to eat?” 

Chizuru had been slow to start on the tea, too. She’s heating water, and steam wreathes her face, halfway hiding her features from him. Like she’s in fog, like she’s stepped out of a dream. 

“Oh, breakfast. Hm…” Her voice trails off, like food is a foreign concept to her. “Whatever you want, I suppose. I’m not terribly hungry.” 

And so, Shinpachi prepares a meal that neither of them much want. At least rice has always had a simple, comforting scent to it. Filling their stomachs helps ground them, too. 

_Yeah, she probably has to leave soon,_ he decides, no longer in such a panic. _But at least we had this time together._

For someone that claimed to not be hungry, Chizuru bolts down her food quite quickly. Then she keeps giving him looks, like she’s made up her mind on something. When she moves over to his side of the table, he half expects her to take his empty plate away. They both trade off on such chores without thinking about it. Sometimes it reminds him of battle-intuition, and how he could know what Sano or Saito would do well before they did it. There were some that would definitely balk at comparing household tasks to the glory of battle, but it just makes Shinpachi smile. Maybe some things could live on, in another form. 

And then Chizuru leans into him and kisses him.

She doesn’t linger, but it’s not a quick peck, either. It’s cautious, thoughtful, and curious. It’s quite ordinary until, when she pulls away, he realizes he wants so much more. 

It’s exactly the kind of kiss he’d expect from Chizuru. 

“Why?” he asks. Then he’s tempted to punch himself right in his stupid face.

If she’s offended, she does a good job of hiding it. “I’m just…giving you something to think about today. I guess.”

No more words are said, because her actions speak quite plainly. Unambiguously. They clean up in silence. If they ever shoot one another a side long glance, the other does the courtesy of not pointing it out. As much as she’s gone and fulfilled his unspoken wishes, he finds he’s glad to go to work soon. She’s right; he does need to reflect on what to do now. 

Still, just as he’s about to leave, Shinpachi realizes he can’t leave her with nothing. 

“You’re ‘giving me something to think about?’” He shakes his head. Shinpachi expects his laughter to sound strained but, actually, this is the freest it’s sounded in years. “You’re so suave, lately.”

Her grin is crooked. And cute. “I learned from the best.” 

Shinpachi clutches his hand to his heart. “I know you probably mean Sano, but let me pretend otherwise.” 

How strange. Just a few months ago, this kind of joke would have been unthinkable. Now, though, it doesn’t seem disrespectful at all. It just leaves him feeling like he’s swallowed the bitterest tea, then snacked on one of those hideously sweet European desserts. Overwhelming, a sensory overload, but not bad. They rarely talk about it, but there’s something to be said about sharing space with someone thinking the exact same things as you. Wrestling the same guilts, the same griefs, 

And now the same joys. 

*

The decision to marry happens so quickly it’s like her emotions should have bruises. Just from whiplash alone.

She’s writing things in her notebook. Fragments about healing herbs, reminders about bandages to buy, and patients to visit. It will be dark, soon, and she’ll have to light their lamps. Chizuru is so engrossed in it, that she’s almost forgotten her actions this morning. But then Shinpachi is throwing open their door, rushing to her table, and pulling her into his arms like she might float away. 

In between kisses they babble about commitment, they babble about marriage. They babble about staying together for as long as life allows. 

_I have a home, a permanent home, with someone I love. Someone I love wants me to **stay.**_ The thought repeats over and over, like a mantra. It almost drowns out their conversation about the rituals they must perform to get married. It almost erases their decision about how they might as well make their vows that very night.

She might explode from joy, but nothing about this feels sudden. The whole experience is that of a perfect, fully formed flower finally unfurling. 

The rituals are self-performed and rather soothing. They have no family present to drag the ceremony out, and they’re witnessed by familiar walls that have sheltered them. Chizuru’s mouth stings with wedding sake, but she’s fully sober as she takes Shinpachi’s hand and leads him to bed. 

They might have rushed the wedding, they might have hurried into bed, but they take a leisurely stroll towards the actual consummation. Chizuru thinks they might have kissed for an hour. Maybe several of them. It all sort of blends together in a whirl of lips and tongues and wandering hands. She learns that she’s quite good at this, thank you very much. Shinpachi is more than willing to yield to her, to let her kiss him powerfully. And sometimes her grabs her face, kisses her hard. And, unlike her first kiss, it feels less like someone making a pronouncement on her worth, and a lot more like someone trying to be her companion.

At one point she’s on top of him and her legs are on either side of his hips. Chizuru had thought she was more familiar with him than she was with herself, but now she sees that for a lie. It’s one thing to look at him, another thing to have him underneath her.

“Hey,” he says, and she likes that catch in his voice. It’s like her kisses have shattered the words in his throat. “Do demons have different marriage ceremonies?” 

_He’s so interested in the world around him._ She’s overly warm, pride in him coursing through her veins. 

She stares down at him, reveling in the sight of his hair, his lips, his eyes. Her hands explore disheveled clothing, and hard planes of muscle, and she thinks _this is it. This is your husband. This is what happiness looks like. This is what it feels like._

“Hey, Chizuru?” He pokes her shoulder. Then he reaches up, and makes it so her hair is undone from its ties. It flows down over her shoulders. Shinpachi has to repeat the question. 

“Oh, sorry.” Speaking is hard for her, too. “I don’t know much about anything like that. I wish I did. All I really know for sure is how to make myself look like a demon.”

“Could you…” He lets the question die out. Shinpachi probably expects to see her naked, soon, but it’s as though this is too much of an intrusion. Then he rallies, tries again. “Could you show me?”

_There’s nothing to be afraid of, though._ This she says mostly to herself, rather than to him. 

“Yes, look.” Her hair turns white, and nub-like horns sprout from her head. She wonders if Shinpachi is really gilded like this, or she’s imagining it because she knows her eyes must be gold now. 

She’s not worried about Shinpachi casting her out, or divorcing her on the spot. He knows what she is, and he’s married her anyway. But she is waiting for that split second of disgust or doubt, and she doesn’t know what she’ll do if she glimpses it. Instead, he runs his fingers through her hair, like he’s trailing it through water. 

“I’m so happy you’re staying with me.” 

It’s too hard to respond to that. It would be impossible to do elegantly. So she holds his wrists above their heads, and they kiss, and he slowly realizes that her grip is strong when she’s in this form. 

He starts to laugh when they break apart. He still can’t pull away from her, and he writhes a bit like the last thing he wants to do is escape. 

“I’m learning new things about myself,” he says, his voice low. She swallows. “Though maybe you want to explore them next time?” 

“Yes,” she says. Like him, there are certain things she knows she wants to try. But not yet. For now it’s enough that he saw her in this way.

She returns to her human form, but it’s as though displaying her demon features left her naked. It’s like a formality when Shinpachi undoes her _obi_ and slowly, reverent, pulls her clothes aside. 

Removing Shinpachi’s clothing is a lot more interesting. This surprises her, because he has always been generous when it came to displaying his skin. But now her hands and body have access to the entirety of him, naked and muscular and hard against her. Every touch burns, somehow. It’s all made heady and potent by this complex intermingling of love, and lust, and friendship.

For a while he kisses her, and touches her, and it draws out sounds that she didn’t know she could possibly make. At first she’s embarrassed, but that’s swept away by desire and excitement. Then she takes all that’s happened to her and she flips it. She mirrors what he did, touching the same spots, licking the same sensitive places. She touches locations that make him gasp and whisper her name in such a way that her toes curl almost painfully hard. 

Then he rolls her on her back, and kisses her with finality. Starting from her lips, then traveling down and down, until he ends at her inner thighs. Then he’s pressing his tongue to certain areas, until the whole world seems to fall to fragments, and she forgets things like worry, fear, or loss. There’s just this moment. There’s just this person. Her closest friend, her closest companion. They would keep going into the future, together. 

Sweat is streaming down her forehead, stinging her eyes. She’s wiping it away with the back of her arm when he lies next to her, and holds her until her breath steadies. 

“I thought you were crying, at first, and I was all ‘I hope that’s because of joy.’” He laughs about it, but he also holds her closer. As if to shield her from any other reasons for tears.

It makes her think, though. She tries to conceptualize all the flickering thoughts in her head. She tries to put a narrative on pure emotion, pure need. Chizuru has never thought it could be like this. For much of her life, her body was a freakish (and then demonic) thing. During her time with the Shinsengumi, she hated her short stature, and the lack of muscles required to protect her friends.

Tonight, though, she’s discovered that the capacity for dizzying joy lies within her body, too. 

“If you keep doing that, it might end up being because of joy.”

“Is that a request, because, I mean…” Shinpachi’s lips find her neck again. They’re sliding down her collarbones when she starts to realize he’s serious. She also realizes that he’s smiling. Her fingers latch onto his hair, and she gently lifts his head so that he has to look at her. 

“I think I’d rather do all of it. Right now.” Her vocabulary suddenly seems terribly inadequate. Either too flowery or too crude, with little in between. She spreads her legs a little more, and he understands immediately. 

When he kisses her, he also seems like someone grappling for words. “Okay,” he says at last, sounding a little awestruck. “Okay. I’ll … Keep talking to me. I’ll make it good.”

Shinpachi pushing into Chizuru is something of a laborious process. Even though she’s _ready_ from everything that they’ve done, the actual physical sensation is so strange. He breaches her very slowly, gaining ground, pauses to let her adjust, then moves forward a little more still. Bit by bit. Though she appreciates it, Chizuru stares up at his face and wishes things could be otherwise. Her hands are on his back, and she can feel the faint, but persistent tremors issuing from his hips. He’s fighting instinct, fighting need. Just for her. 

“Just go all the way,” she whispers, “Right now. My body heals fast.” 

They’re so close that his wince feels like a gesture from her own body. 

“Maybe you can, but I don’t want to take advantage of that fact, you know?” He brushes her hair out of her face, then keeps on stroking it. “Let’s talk about… something to distract ourselves. The weather, maybe?”

Chizuru cracks up, and her laughter crackles from lack of breath. Nerves and happiness make strange things happen. 

“If you say so.”

It ends up playing out exactly as he joked, however. She shifts around, breathes, and adjusts. He continues to slide into hers. And in between suggestions and soft panting, they banter about the unseasonably cold weather, and the things they might need to buy tomorrow. It keeps Chizuru from tensing up, and she suspects it keeps him from climaxing unexpectedly. 

The further he goes, the harder it is to think. Eventually Chizuru can’t speak. All she can is gently scratch her fingers over his broad back, and he kisses nearly every inch of her face. Her thoughts spiral away and, now, she’s no longer inclined to chase them. They seem pale and illusory when balanced against the way Shinpachi is present in all her physical sensations. 

When he starts to move, he does so slowly, with as much gentleness as this act can allow. She has to cling to his shoulders, because every motion tells her that she’s loved, tells her than she belongs, and she really might drown in the joy of it all. 

Chizuru remembers that she should be moving, too, and she experiments with it. Arching her hips to meet his. Sometimes it makes him gasp her name. Sometimes it makes her shut her eyes likes she’s stared at the sun too long. After trial and error, she finds the precise angle- the precise speed and motion- that has them moaning together. Sometimes laughing breathlessly at how close they are, how desperate they sound. 

“Keep it like that,” she orders him surprised at the deepness of her voice. “Just like that.” That rhythm, that speed, that… that _everything_.

She wraps her legs around him. Chizuru doesn’t think she can convince him to go faster this time around, and she’s not sure she wants that tonight. She likes this sensation of drifting with him on an overwhelming tide. Wave by wave, they’re drifting further from the shore. When the end comes, they still cling to each other for a long time after. 

“Crying for joy, yet?” He asks, sounding more tentative that she’s ever heard him. 

She shakes her head, not lifting it from his upper arm. Chizuru wants to lick the curve of a muscle and realizes, with a start, that she can. This is her domain now. She does so, idly, listening to a catch in his breathing.

“Damn, guess I have to work harder, then.” 

She can’t stop kissing him. As soon as she kisses his shoulders, she has to kiss his lips. As soon as she kisses his lips she has to kiss his chest. She has to kiss him everywhere. She needs to hear the sounds he makes as she does so. It’s a need as severe as her need for water, air, food. Was it normal to desire someone this way? 

It must be.

He’s given her so much back, and more besides.

Now it’s her turn.

They have the rest of their lives, after all.


End file.
